Home Bound
by Steelburst
Summary: With the Allspark, and Megatron, obliterated, the Autobots can rest easy. Until, that is, the remaining Decepticons start hunting for something. Better than it sounds—also my first fic; feedback much appreciated!
1. Running

This is my first fanfic. I've read quite a bit in my lifetime, and decided to try to write myself. I'd really appreciate some feedback on how this goes! 3  
>This is also a little overused plotline (not that you'll likely figure it out in this first post ;3) but it seemed like something I could handle, hopefully.<br>Set after the first movie, but saying more Autobots/Decepticons have landed on Earth. Like Sunstreaker. Why wasn't he in the movie? D /rants/

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><p>Looking in the mirror for a long minute, a depressed sigh escaped her full lips, before she averted her gaze elsewhere. Things needed to be picked up, tools cleaned, Mikey fed. The large, scruffy dog lounged lazily in the corner, the only place the sun didn't actually reach. Despite being early morning, the temperature had already reached the eighties, and the old, abandoned building had no means of heating and cooling. While hot summers were difficult, the frigid winters were nearly impossible. The hot rays beat down on her already sunburned skin as she moved about, grabbing the large bag of dog food and heaving it over to the bowl and pouring some inside. Immediately the Siberian Husky came over, panting to exert its heat, before happily diving into the meal. Lee smiled, scratching the pooch behind the ears before placing the food back where it belonged, and setting to work with exhausted movements.<p>

Once again, the female had been out all night, leaving her makeshift home sometime around midnight and not returning until seven thirty that morning. It wasn't the first time, and it would not be the last. If she could help it, the teen would stay indoors at night, still possessing that hard fear of the type of people who prowled the streets at night—muggers, rapist, murders, the like. Of course, ever since Mission City's so called terrorist attack, there were other things she feared, and hopefully wouldn't ever have to come across again.

But, unfortunately, it was not something she could control. If she wanted to continue living, and not have the head of some small-time gang kill her, then she had to continue stealing cars. Even though the gang was small time, they were still deadly. She had witnessed them kill someone before. The rest of _that _evening was spent curled up and sobbing about what she had gotten herself into.

Lee cleaned the oil off her small wrench set, her mind trailing elsewhere. The place she had called home for the past seven years was an old, half a mile east of Mission City. It was old and rickety, bricks falling out of place, no window left intact—several boarded up, large, gaping holes in the structure and a holey roof. It was, originally, a two story building. One half of the second floor had collapsed, making a large concrete playground on the north side of the building, while on the south side, the second floor was still standing, the support beams as seemingly strong as the day they were built. All the furniture had been moved out, leaving nothing but what the redhead had moved in—an old mechanic's workbench she had lifted off an old gas station, a wooden chair, and various tools. She didn't live the most luxurious, easy life, but at least she was alive.

Unable to help herself, her eyes wandered back to the hanging, broken mirror that hung on the opposite wall. It was the only other thing she had, although detested looking in it, but never had the will to stop herself. Lee wasn't a tall girl, standing at exactly five feet, though sometimes she swore she was shrinking. Her hair was a dull red, the straight strands almost always tucked up in a gray dusty hat with the L.A. Laker's emblem on it, leaving a few strands down to frame her face. Lee had bright green eyes framed by thick lashes with delicate eyebrows above them, and full, soft lips to accompany her over all baby-faced appearance. Most of her now tanned skin—as the brim of the old hat protected her face from being sunburned—was smudged with light patches of dirt and dried oil, and when she had a chance, she'd visit the small stream five minutes away to clean herself up. Her frame was small, underweight considering she was homeless (although she would vehemently argue she had a home and there was nothing wrong with it) and broke 99.9% of the time, so food was another scarce thing in her life. Her skin was severely sunburned, peeling in some places, and bruised in others. Lee often looked like the title other people had given her: a street rat. She didn't have many articles of clothing, but what she did own was usually torn and wrinkled, stained with oil or other mechanical fluids, and she had no shoes.

As of recent, her physical appearance had gained another feature in the form of a tattoo. It wasn't one she had gotten by a professional (as that cost money, and money she did not have) but it seemed to just…grow naturally on her skin. This of course defied all the education she had from what little schooling completed in her lifetime. Markings on one's skin did not just _grow_ into place. Especially ones as strange as these. Around her left eye seemed to be some sort of foreign symbols—definitely not English. They had an Japanese or Chinese appearance to them, but yet, were not the characters from their language either. The symbols looked like something someone just made up. But they curled around her left eye, crossing through the eyebrow , though not interrupting the hair growth there, and extended down the side of her face, stopping a few inches above her jaw line. She had similar markings on her right shoulder blade, and they extended down the right side of her back. That marking was much easier to forget about than the one on her face, which was the reason she stopped looking in the mirror so much.

Settling her clean tools back in the drawer, Lee let out a large yawn, before moving over to the place she slept—a small shelter created by a fallen slab of concrete. It probably wasn't the most secure place in the entire building, but at the same time, it was secure to her. It provided a shelter and a sense of safety. She curled up against another, much smaller piece of concrete, the dull edges of it against her side as she used her extra clothing as a sort of pillow, and it wasn't long before her faithful husky came to join her, curling against her side to provide some warmth, despite it being about eighty degrees outside. But she didn't push away the comfort, instead letting her eyes flitter closed as her lack of sleep caught up with her.

A snarl and a gunshot was what woke her, sometime later. Her body jerked as her eyes flew open, her delicate sleeping shattered in an instant. Listening closely, Lee realized her pooch was gone, and very possibly dead, no sound of his panting or otherwise meeting her ears. Remaining curled in her position, she didn't dare breathe, though a growing terror seemed to seize her heart and mind, making her stomach twist painfully. It was sunset, the lighting in the building a low orange hue and only grazing the tops of the fallen concrete. Soon, it would be dark. But that severed as no security now—whatever caused the gunshot, whoever pulled the trigger, could still be lurking, and could very well shoot her.

"Damn mutt," a voice muttered, seeming annoyed. Lee squeezed her eyes shut and bit her bottom lip softly. First thing first, don't panic. Living on the streets was a hard life, so she knew how to fight, and she had the street smarts for escaping and hiding. And, if needed, she could hijack a car, and get away. Her job entailed stealing cars, which entailed hotwiring. That was a skill she had been taught by one of the members of the small gang, which was also how she had become involved with them. Unfortunately, their leader than began thinking he owned her and her skill, and she somehow owed them. Lee wouldn't be surprised if a gang member was the cause of a gunshot.

"Oh, little Lee," a voice called, this one vaguely family. Her heart sank, knowing it was one of the men. This meant one of two things; the leader didn't need her, and put a hit on her, or the leader wanted to see her. Neither were good, and she calculated all the ways she could escape.

Sitting up, and uncurling in silence, she rationalize with herself, calming her nerves and crouching down, moving against the fallen concrete that made her little room. From the voices that spoke, she knew there were two of them—one she knew was a rather lanky man, no muscles to his body at all, and someone she could, maybe with some luck, knock out of the way. Despite being small, she knew how to use someone's size against them. However, the unknown man was something of a hindrance.

"Lee, come out, and we won't hurt you… much." Whenever someone was sent for her, they always roughed her up, and she still had bruises from the last time they visited uninvited.

Obviously, sitting there wasn't going to do her much good. They would either find her, or they would wait until she was supposed to come home. Heart beating a mile a minute, she edged out, trying to catch a glance at the other man, to analyze the appropriate action. She was not disappointed to see that the two men were of the same build—a lanky one at that—and that only one of them had a visible gun. And, as her green eyes glanced to the ground, she could indeed see the now bloodied carcass of her faithful friend, and her heart tightened in her chest, sorrow flooding her adrenaline filled veins. That dog was really the only companionship she had. Breaking her eyes away, she swallowed, shifting back inside the hole.

"She's not here, let's just come back later and leave this as a… present."

"Dude, she'd freak!" the other laughed, the sound of clapping echoing through the area, and Lee's heart wrenched, a sick feeling in her gut at how positively disgusting the grunts were. Disgusting and cruel. A new fear clawed at her heart, but at the same time, a little bit of hope nestled in too. Hope the two would leave.

Lee, when she was but twelve years old—a year spent living on the streets and almost dying several times by hungry, strange people and other natural forces—when she was found by one of the older members of the gang. He showed her a kindness the people of Mission City did not, by giving her small rations of food, and teaching her skills to fight. Jared was perhaps in his late thirties, and taught the young girl how to fight, how to hot wire cars, and when she was fifteen, he taught her everything he knew about mechanics, so not only could she steal cars (which she abandoned her moral reasoning against doing such a deed—if those people could drive such beautifully expensive cars, why couldn't they spare a little money for a starving child?) but she could dismantle them for parts, too. Unfortunately, Jared was killed in cold blood in front of her, and she's never been able to use her skills for herself since.

"I'm tempted to stay, just to see her reaction."

"She'll probably start sobbing—she's a girl, ain't she?" The two shared a laugh at Lee's expense, the girl hardly acknowledging it, though knowing she would not cry. Her heart was broken for her faithful companion, as Mikey had been with her since he was a pup, but she had shed too many tears over being heart broken, over loss, over fear and over her own sanity. It was nearly impossible for her to produce tears any more, and it was a factor she did not miss. Tears got you nowhere on the streets.

"Yeah, you're right. Let's get outta here. We can drop by later." Relief flooded her systems as she listened to the pair of feet leave the room.

Lee made a decision, one that needed to be made for a while now. She would leave her little safe haven—which was not exactly safe anymore—and flee to a new city, where she could not be bothered by the gang any long. It had been the greatest mistake of her life to get involved with them, and now she needed to get away. When Lee felt safe enough to move, she stepped out of the hole she was in, moving quickly to the door, but not glancing at the deceased dog, nor stepping in the pooling blood. This was too cruel a fate for him, but she could not change things, no matter how many times throughout her childhood she wished she could. Out in the still sinking sun, she looked around carefully, before moving towards the city. She had nothing inside the building worth taking with her—Mikey would have been worth it, but…

It took almost an hour to get there, her thoughts preoccupied with calming her emotional and physical state as she entered the city's limits, the sun completely gone now and the streets lit by well-spaced street lamps. Her eyes flickered around constantly, something that she did subconsciously, looking for anyone out this late, or any sort of transportation she could steal. Lee had come to terms with herself long ago—she was a criminal, yes, as hijacking vehicles was illegal. But she still had morals, was still ethical. It wasn't like she was stealing cars with children in them, or using the cars to rundown civilians on the sidewalks. They were given to chop shops, and then she was given money (which was almost immediately taken by the gang lord). She had never done anything else in her life worthy of jail time, but she was still a criminal. A very scrawny, filthy and half-starved criminal with odd tattoos.

Turning onto another street, her eyes caught the dancing neon lights of some sort of club. Her eyes lit up, knowing there were probably cars around back, but she just had to be careful should someone come stumbling out. Bare feet trotting against concrete, the young girl crept like a ninja to the back of the lot, carefully avoiding the bouncer at the door, and the few people who were still lined up to get inside. Finding the parking lot, she browsed her choices. The first thing she saw was a large black Topkick. However, as she neared it, a small burning sensation grew in the markings on her face, and she let out a very low hiss of discomfort, lifting her hand to her left cheek, the tips of her fingers running over the marked skin softly. It didn't soothe the burn, and had she not had other priorities, she would have thought long and hard about it. But as it was, she was already working on a time limit before any of the gang members starting searching the city for her in realization she was not going back to her home. She walked around the Topkick, letting the hand that had caressed her cheek fall back to her side.

"I wouldn't be able to see over the damn steering wheel," she muttered, almost regretfully. It would be nice to have a large vehicle—usually she stole and drove smaller, more luxurious types. She softly patted the hood of it, cautious of the alarm that was no doubt in place. "Too bad." Her eyes moved onwards as she maneuvered the parking lot, looking over a number of different cars. She wanted something normal—not something obnoxiously expensive. She didn't need to attract attention.

However, _her_ attention was suddenly captured by a bright yellow vehicle, parked a few spaces down from the Topkick. She wandered over, seemingly mesmerized by the color. A bright yellow, with duel black racing stripes was the Camaro's decal, and if anything, Lee was a sucker for a custom paint job. She let her eyes roam over its frame work, but had no intentions of stealing it. She'd be able to see over the steering wheel, but it'd still turn too many heads.

"What're you doing?" The redhead jumped eyes widening as she swirled around so fast she tripped over her heels and fell back against the yellow Camaro, the back of her thoughts surprised she did not set off the vehicles alarm. Immediately she removed herself from it, green eyes locating the three men who now stood at the hood of the car, while she had been inspecting the back of it. Never before had she been caught while she was browsing for the next vehicle to steal. And very rarely did she actually speak with someone in the city—they were normally warded off by her offending condition of being homeless and a street rat. But no doubt, one of the men was the owner of the car, and perhaps couldn't really see her ratty appearance given the lack of lighting in the parking lot. Swallowing what seemed like a ball of fear, she analyzed the situation. Two of the guys looked fresh out of their teen years, and despite the lack of lighting, she could tell one had medium length blonde hair that reached his shoulders, while the other had shorter, scruffier brunette, perhaps even black hair. Neither were particularly buff—but they weren't lanky either. They looked like they ate well, and deep inside Lee was a little jealous. She always was, when she came into the city. The other man, however, he looked… like someone she did not want to pick a fight with. Just the way he stood, hands folded neatly behind his back, broad chest forward, told her that he was a confident man who no doubt knew how to fight. Regardless of how intimidating he was, the odds were still in their favor—there were three of them, and only her.

"I, um," her voice was cracked and nervous, despite her trying to control it. She had never been in this situation before. "I was just… admiring your car." _Yeah, that's it,_ she thought to herself, although didn't remember thinking of the excuse before saying it. "A 2009 Chevrolet Camaro, right?" Giving a cheeky grin, she pummeled down the nervousness that was threatening to make her shake and stutter—which weren't foreign reactions to her. Right before hotwiring a car she got like that, and apparently in the presence of other people.

She received suspicious glances from the three men, and that was when she decided she needed to get out of there. Perhaps her knowledge of the car's model hurt her, rather than saved her. Ever so subtly, she backed up a step. Lee was fast—aside from her mechanical skills, that was the only thing she had to rely on. Her legs were probably longer than any other part of her, and her calloused feet aided her quite well when it came to fleeing. And she didn't like calling it fleeing, as she didn't like being called a coward; she preferred to think of it as a tactical retreat.

Unfortunately, the movement was noticed by the broader, older man, and no doubt interpreted as a means to run. He moved forward with a speed that Lee hadn't predicted, but she moved quicker, turning and _fleeing _now, a small chirp of surprise escaping her lips as she weaved behind the vehicles. A small glance over her shoulder revealed not only was the broader man chasing her—and yelling for her to stop immediately—but so were the other two, only they weren't between the parking spaces like herself and the man, but rather on the other side. A huge charge of fear shredded her nervous system, adrenaline pouring fast into her veins and in large amounts as she pushed her bare feet harder against the concrete, blocking out the pain from anything she may have stepped on, and begging any and all superior and godly beings that she could escape.

Taking a sharp turn, she slipped between a pair of Lamborghini's, her thoughts too occupied to admire the pretty cars. However, it seemed that godly being had it out for her, as the red Lamborghini's driver side door open suddenly, and her small frame crashed into it like a brick against a wall. Lee tumbled to the ground, a small displeasured noise rupturing through her lips as a dulling pain spread through her body, and the burning in the tattoos on her face continued.

Knowing she had but seconds before the man caught up, she sprang to her feet eyes widening as she realized there was not one, but two men standing on the other side of the door. Panic and fear rippling through her like a tidal wave, she spun on her heels, throwing herself up on the hood of the red Lamborghini and crossing it, oblivious to the shouts of displeasure coming from one of the men, before she took off again, narrowly escaping the incoming tackle from the broad man.

Running like she had never ran in her life, the end of the parking lot, and what awaited her, made her eyes widen and her blood run cold. A wall. A solid, cement made wall. It was too tall—or maybe her too short, she couldn't tell—for her to jump it without climbing something. And as she reached the end, her feet burning from the near skidding stop she made, she looked frantically for some sort of way over, or an opening. She spotted a dumpster, across the way, and immediately heading for it. Using the old Volkswagen, she climbed on its hood, before onto the top—pointedly ignoring the alarm—before jumping to the lid of the dumpster, and vaulting over the wall using her hands. Unfortunately, she hadn't planned on the landing, landing on her feet only to fall forward on her hands and knees, a sharp pain searing the offended areas. Whimpering, she stood up, before continuing to run, not bothering to look back or really hearing what the voices had called after her.

Lee didn't stop running until she was almost seven blocks away, panting hard for her oxygen starved lungs and pain in numerous parts of her body, mostly the bottom of her feet, kneecaps, and hands, where she landed after jumping the wall. Her mouth was dry, and she was tired and hungry. The only good thing was she had escaped the men who had been chasing her, and the burning in the symbols on her face had subsided. Stepping into the opening of a small alley, she leaned against the wall before sliding down, her legs against her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around them and her forehead resting against her knees.

What a night this was turning out to be. First, her beloved dog was killed, and she made the decision to better her life and flee the gang. Then, while trying to steal a car—something she had done umpteen times—she was caught, confronted, and then chased through the parking lot.

Quiet enveloped the night as her breathing called, and after sitting in the fetal position for longer than necessary, Lee finally lifted her head, dead set on going about her plans. If she let what happen moments ago deter her, she'd be stuck in Mission City, and no doubt the gang would find her. Climbing to her feet, she glanced out of the alley way, searching for any sign of people. Upon not discovering any, she moved, pain pinging her feet with every step, though she tried to block it out. She couldn't let the pain get to her. Not now.

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><p>There you go! First chapter!<br>Again, I'd really, really appreciate some feedback. Should I continue this? Not quit my day job? Give up on all hope of being an author here on fanfic?  
>I was thinking for the next chapter, perhaps doing something small-like from Ironhide or Bumblebee's point of view; or even one of the twins. idk.<br>What do you guys think? c:


	2. More Running

**So, this chapter is in the Autobots & cos. perspective (although still third person) as they ran into the car thief. Or she ran into them. Anywho.**

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><p>Mission City, for the most part, had returned to normal. The Autobot and Decepticon presence had been wiped virtually from existence, and the damage entirely repaired. Now, it was just the site of a terrorist attack, or so the planet's media sources said. It was interesting to Ironhide how the humans so blindly followed what they were told. Believed the information they were fed. Didn't they ever question the government's rules, what their president told them? Although, he supposed that was what The Fallen had done—questioned the rule of preserving life—and look where it got him. Exiled to some desolate location and unheard from since. Ironhide didn't spare the fallen Prime too much thought, his processor occupying multiple thoughts at once, in fact. Sitting out in the parking lot of a human club was not the first on his list of things to do when bored. Will had offered for him to come in, as his holoform, but he hastily turned down the offer. Bumblebee had told him what the humans do in there—drink and drink until their drunk off their asses, and then dance. Ironhide enjoyed a good high grade every now and again, but dancing? Oh <em>hell<em> no.

Bumblebee, Jazz and the Lamborghini twins, however, were all inside, leaving Ironhide alone in the parking lot. He didn't mind so much, as he kept slipping in and out of recharge, and the drunken humans who wandered out provided a source of entertainment as their sober counterparts attempted to coax them into the backseat, all while begging them not to throw up on the interiors. Ironhide silently hoped William Lennox, his charge for the night, did not come out highly intoxicated. The mech would hate to do it, but he'd kick the drunk human out of his cab if Will was going to purge his meal and drinks on Ironhide's interior. Bumblebee had both Samuel Witwicky and his friend Miles to be concerned over, Jazz brought Robert Epps, while the twins brought no one but themselves. Expected, really. They didn't typically give the humans rides.

It wasn't long before his scanners picked up another human in the vicinity, and he drew himself from recharge hoping for another drunk human who couldn't walk and spouted obnoxious slurs. He was greeted, however, with a young female human, who had not come from the club, but rather the street beside it. She was around Sam's age, the mech was sure, but looked smaller and thinner, a bit filthy as well. His olfactory senses could pick up oil and other mechanical fluids, but something else caught his attention. She had tattoos around her left eye—Cybertronian symbols that, could he be able to examine better, might have been able to read. But her hair and the brim of her hat obscured them for the most part as her green eyes looked over his truck form.

Something tugged at his spark, giving him a curious feeling. It wasn't uncomfortable, but more like the tug wanted his attention.

His curiosity to his spark's current condition was dragged back to the girl as she spoke, commenting on how she wouldn't be able to see over his steering wheel. That was a true fact. For a human, she was rather short. The redhead would not doubt just have trouble getting into his cab. Her next muttering left him a little confused as she touched him, the skin contact, had he been in his mech form, would have made him flinch. It was like a sharp electric shock, one which left his processor buzzing. He watched as she pulled away, progressing further into the parking lot as she looked over other vehicles.

Her attention seemed to be captivated by Bumblebee, and it was then that Ironhide connected the dots, so to say. She was a car thief. Using his processor and comm link, he called Will, pleased to find the human was not intoxicated.

"Lennox," he answered.

"William, you, as well as Sam and Epps, should return to the parking lot. I believe there is a car thief eyeing Bee…"

"We'll be right out." Ironhide decided to comm the others in the parking lot.

::_There is a car thief in the parking lot, currently observing Bumblebee:: _he told them. Jazz was directly across from him, obviously not any of the thief's concern, but Bee, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were further back. Judging by what he found on the Internet, if the Camaro didn't interest her, then surely a shiny Lamborghini would. The World Wide Web said that car thieves go for the more expensive types, normally. And while there was really no danger of her stealing one of them—as they would simply just override any command she made to drive—there was still potential damage, as she could break a window to get in or cause other damage.

Will came out first, followed by Sam and his friend, Sam passing the soldier as he almost broke into a run to get to the Camaro. Ironhide watched as they confronted her, and from there his scanners were picking up a number of pheromones, namely the ones associated with human fear.

The light tug on his spark suddenly turned into a harsh jerk, and his engine started up, headlights flickering without his controlling them to do so. Epps, who had trailed out after them and was passing by, stopped to look at the Topkick.

"What's wrong, man?" he questioned, watching as Ironhide turned the lights off along with the engine. That was rather unexpected—as was the jerk on his spark. Something was pulling it now, harder than it was before, and he was unsure of what was going on. Never before had his spark experienced something like this.

"Fine," he grumbled, somewhat embarrassed by his sudden loss of control over himself, though he'd never share that.

Suddenly, the girl took off, and Will gave chase, weaving behind the cars after the girl. Ironhide grumbled to himself, silently comm'ing the twins to catch her—but not harm her. Harming organics was, and always will be, against what they stood for. Obviously the young human merely needed some guidance in the right directions, away from crime.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, however, couldn't be more pleased with the task. They let their holoforms, which had stayed inside the club, disappear in a haze of receptors, before materializing by their true forms once again. They planned silently with each other without needing words, positioning themselves on the other side of a taller vehicle, so when she ran by, Sideswipe could tackle her, and if he missed, Sunstreaker could grab her. However, their plans changed in a pinch as she turned between their real forms.

Without thinking, Sideswipe threw his driver's side door open, and she ran right into it. The sudden skin contact against his red armor sent an electric wave through his form, causing his holoform to flash in and out of existence while the engine of the red Lamborghini revved without his making it do so. Sunstreaker looked at him, sensing the electric shock over their bond, but Sideswipe moved before he could question it. The girl was getting up, and immediately their holoforms stood on the other side of the door as Will caught up. However, the girl quickly proved she was not planning to go that way.

As she climbed up on Sideswipe's hood, he yelled in sudden protest, but it was cut off as the electric shocks were back, flaring through him like a serrated blade and pummeling his internal systems. His processor glitched as the holoform disappeared in a flash, before his vehicle form suddenly went eerily silent into a forced recharge. Sunstreaker, panicking about his brother's sudden silence, returned the receptors from the holoform to his true form, before trying to reach him through their bond.

Sideswipe came back a moment later, the engine purring to life as his processor reset, the glitch stopping as he resumed back to his normal self. However, there was a rather rude tug on his spark, and from what, he didn't know. After confirming with Ironhide and the others that he was fine, he relaxed on his shocks. There was no damage, he had scanned himself twice already, but he knew Ratchet was going to want to hear about this.

Great.

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><p><strong>Reviews are still appreciated! Tell me how I'm doing c:<strong>  
><strong>Even if you're just saying "hey, this is good." or "hey, I like this." ~<strong>


	3. Giant Robot Fight

Bare feet covered in light specks of dried blood and dirt padded silently against the cement sidewalk, carrying the human female down the darker streets of Mission City, her normally bright eyes flickering about rapidly, her physical form jumping or flinching at any noise within a five foot radius of her. On this particular street, it seemed that the lamps were placed further apart—or perhaps that was just her paranoia. Never before had she been caught in the midst of stealing a car, and unfortunately, it reaped repercussions, such as tangling her emotions into a frustrating web. She was terrified, paranoid, still heartbroken, and all the while trying to remind herself to be brave and remain calm. While she liked to say living on the streets for the past six years had hardened her, it really hadn't—she still had those fears for her safety. Plenty of reckless people were homeless, and those were the ones that didn't care about what happened to them because they had nothing going in their lives. Lee didn't have a life to turn back to, but she still enjoyed living. Even if living grew harder each and every day.

As she came to an empty intersection, the red lights blinking above her, she let her near exhausted eyes look down each road as far as she could see, searching for any signs of a vehicle or a parking lot. Luckily, down the northern street was a parking garage, and she could surely steal _something_ from there. Crossing the street, she moved quickly, her walking turning into a light jog as her instincts told her to just full out run.

Before she got too close, the burning returned to her face, this time making her breathing hitch has her hand flew to the uncomfortable patch of skin, rubbing it softly. She stopped moving, looking up as headlights poured out of the garage's opening, and immediately she ducked into an alley way, leaning flat against the wall, and keeping one hand over the left side of her face as the burning continued. Lee failed to understand what was going on with her skin—it was different from the burn inflicted by a sunburn. It felt more like a mini fire had started beneath every marking, carving into her face and further marking her. But at the same time, the burning seemed to surge, like a signal. It was confusing and uncomfortable.

Hearing the vehicle's engine rev, she unconsciously caught her breath, listening for the vehicle to leave. The headlights flooded the street that Lee could see, meaning it was coming towards her. Biting her bottom lip, she remained still, praying the driver wouldn't notice her. However, it was starting to seem like every force in the universe was working against letting her leave the City.

The vehicle rolled into her sight ever so slowly, revealing to be a Saleen Police Car, making Lee's eyes widen as the driver—an obvious police officer—looked right at her, his face completely blank. The sudden noise of whirling and clicking and metal on metal screeches caught her ears, terror filling her being as she watched the police car's door move upward as the frame rumbled, transforming right before her eyes to what had the potential to be a giant robot.

_Oh god, not again_, she thought to herself, blood running cold as memories of that day in Mission City. It was said, over radios and news reports and all other forms of media that the city had been attacked by terrorists. All Lee knew, was that the city had been attacked by giant robots from god-only-knew where. They were big—huge—and killed her mother. Every fiber in her being reacted towards them, torn between hate and fear. They were the reason she was orphaned. The reason she lived on scraps. Why she stole cars to save herself. All because of them.

Reacting without thinking about it, she broke out into a run as the car finished its transformation. Her heart beat wildly in her throat, making it even more difficult to breathe as her fear pumped through her system in globs. Barely recognizing what the loud booming voice shouted behind her, she pushed herself to run faster.

"You cannot run, fleshling," it called, and she could hear—_feel_—its footsteps as the street trembled beneath her feet. Lee fought the whimper that wanted to escape her as she turned down another alley, praying that it'd be too narrow for the machine to follow. A vicious snarl ripped from behind her as she reached the end, which let out on another street. As she stepped off the curb, the sound of a blaring horn barely registered in her ears as she felt an explosion of pain in her left side and went sprawling to the ground.

Blinking her eyes open, she had to wait for her vision to clear, the light ringing in her ears making her head throb, though nothing was compared to the pain that was shooting through her right arm. A pained groan left her lips as she struggled to sit up, the bright headlights nearly blinding her as she turned away from them. Dully, through the ringing in her ears, she heard the car doors open, and her only thoughts were to keep running. Scrambling to her feet, she was met with a rather broad chest, and her green eyes blinked up, looking at the man's face, which was rather concerned. _Of course it was_, she thought, _he just hit me with his car._

"Excuse me," she said softly, moving to step around him and run for her life, despite her head still spinning.

"Wait—you should go to the hospital," the man said, his voice heavier than she assumed it would be. "You could have suffered a concussion or—"

"I'm fine!" she insisted, her voice displaying her panic as the sound of squealing tires cutting through all the pain she was currently feeling in her body. The man who blocked her path jerked his head up, looking back down the way he had been coming, before snarling.

"Will, don't let her leave without medical care, and stay back," the man hissed. A hand grabbed onto her left arm, not holding tightly, before pulling her back towards the sidewalk. As she turned to glare and wiggle away from the man holding her, her eyes widened, realizing it was the man from the parking lot—the one who had chased her, to be exact. She tried to twist her arm from his grasp, succeeding as he twisted around to yell at her and grab her again. Lee turned to run, despite the fact that her mind was still dizzy and pain was still throbbing through her body at a steady pace.

She didn't move far before she froze in place, wide green eyes laying on the black Topkick that had hit her as it began to transform like the police car had done ten minutes ago. The clicks of gears and metal on metal movement broke through the ringing in her ears as she continued to stare, terror erupting through her again. The police car, which had come speeding around the corner, transformed right before her eyes, and it was very obvious there was going to be a giant robot fight.

"Don't worry—the big black one's on our side," the man who stood next to her now spoke, sparing a smile at her. She turned her head, staring at him for a long second, before turning and bolting away. She didn't care who was on who's side. That was a giant robot, and she was not sticking around to watch their death match.

"Hey!" the man shouted after her as she darted into another alleyway across the street, the sounds of gunfire and metal grinding catching her ears and making her shudder. The redheaded teen didn't look back and kept running, something she seemed to be doing a lot of that night. As she exited the alley, she took an immediate right, and continued running, not sure if the man was following her but not wanting to find out.

Unfortunately for the man, Lee's skinny legs aided her in being quite fast, which prevented him from catching up with her. "Wait! I'm not going to hurt you!" he shouted. Lee ignored him. She was used to people on the streets lying to her—so much that she never believed anyone anymore.

"Go away!" she shouted back, continuing to run.

"We just want to make sure… you don't have a concussion!"

"I don't!"

"Stop being so damn stubborn!"

"Leave me alone!"

She continued running, turning down another alley, only to hurt her feet more by nearly skidding to a stop—a dead end, and nothing to scale the wall with. She turned around to run back out, but the man was closer than she thought.

"Damn… you're fast," he panted, leaning on his knees to catch his breath. Lee was panting just as hard as he was, but let her eyes roam for a way to escape. She didn't care if this man was going to offer her some free medical help—she didn't care if he was going to give her a million dollars. He was affiliated with the giant robot, and if there was anything on Earth that she didn't want to be around, it was those.

She moved to run past him, but his reaction time was better than she thought it would be, his arm jerking out to grab her. She stopped short, jumping back to avoid him and nearly tripping in the process.

"I just want to help you!" he said, no doubt irritated with her trying to escape.

"I don't want your help! Go help someone else!" Despite being a block or so away, she could still hear the metal on metal from the robots fighting as well as the occasional dulled explosion. The only thing Lee was concerned with right now was escaping. She needed to get out of there and as far away from the giant robots as possible.

Suddenly, the man's phone started going off, and he fished in his jeans pocket, watching her carefully as he brought it to his ear. "Lennox."

Lee started to think quickly, trying to figure out how she could escape this situation. He was watching her, too closely. If she tried to run past him again, he'd just grab her. If she could get him to turn around, however. The redhead looked past him, and widened her eyes, locking her sight on nothing in particular, trying to fool the man into looking to see what had frightened her. To make it more believable, she whimpered, too. He narrowed his eyes, before looking back at what she was looking at. Surging forward, Lee used her shoulder as a battering ram, and shoved against the large man, shoving him forward and to the ground before running for the alley opening, hearing the man swear behind her.

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><p>Reviews appreciated! c:<p> 


	4. The Shoe

Another chapter! Thank you very much to those who reviewed c:

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><p>Lee's Guide to Living on the Streets:<p>

1. It is ill advised to get involved with a gang. They will claim ownership of your soul.

2. Do not get involved with giant, aggressive robots. They will likely rip you limb from limb.

3. It's recommended not to get hit by a giant, aggressive robot when they are in a vehicle form. It will hurt. For days.

4. Using your shoulder as a battering ram is likely to dislocate it, especially if the person you're using it on is made of pure muscle.

A searing pain was tearing through her shoulder, the sunburnt skin no doubt bruising. Because the redhead was underweight, she had less fatty tissue beneath her skin, which meant that she more easily bruised. While she was very, very happy that no bones were broken in her body, she knew that her slender frame was probably incredibly bruised on left side, and she would no doubt be sore for days if not weeks. But at the moment, the exploding pain in her shoulder was asinine; she desperately needed to get away from the giant robots and man affiliated with them. They destroyed her life enough—they didn't need to reap her of it too. So, blocking out the pain and exhaustion, she kept running, ignoring the shouting man who would not give up on chasing her. She needed a way to lose him.

"Stop running! Jesus kid!" the man shouted after her, still running to catch her.

"Oh my—" she cut herself off with a pant, wishing she wasn't so worried about being caught that she could be irritated. "Just leave me alone!" She didn't understand why he was trying so hard to catch her. So his friend, or rather, his giant robot friend or whatever relationship that had, had hit her. No big deal, she didn't want his help, she was sure there wasn't a concussion (for the most part—her head did throb a little still). And yet, he still pursued after her. Unless… Unless she wasn't supposed to see the giant robot, and now they were going to capture her and send her to some off shore prison, where she'd never see the light of day because she knew too much.

_Wow, my imagination runs when I'm exhausted,_ she mused, turning down another street. Every part of her legs were burning with the desire to just stop; stop and rest and take a very long nap. But, with the very determined man chasing her, the redhead knew stopping was out of the question. Maybe, if she was lucky, she should outrun the guy—although from the looks of it, he had plenty of stamina to spare.

Suddenly, something collided with the back of leg before whatever it was got caught between her feet. The next thing she knew, Lee rolled on her back, both hands holding her nose and forehead, where she had smashed it into the concrete. Whimpering, and feeling blood gush through the gaps in her fingers, she attempted sitting up, her vision blurring while pain throbbed in the front of her face.

"That worked… perhaps a little too well…" the male voice spoke, approaching. Lee struggled to her feet, stumbling a little from a woozy feeling, when she noticed what had hit her in the legs. Her eyes widened and she looked at the man in disbelief.

"Did you throw your shoe at me?" she demanded, her voice muffled from her hands, which were trying to keep the blood that still ran from her nose from her mouth.

"You wouldn't stop!" he exclaimed, slipping it back on. "Look, I just want to help—" He stepped closer to her, and she threw up a bloodied hand to halt him.

"I. Don't. Want. Your. Help," she said, glaring at him. "And I swear, if you come any closer to me…!"

He laughed. "Really, kid, look, I'm in the Special Forces branch of the Military, you can't—"

She didn't even let him finished his sentence before she threw a closed fist at his face, hitting him square in the nose. He stepped back, obviously not thrown off, but his hands flew up as he let out a pained groan, his nose now bleeding too. Lee turned, once again running to escape.

This time, he didn't follow—part of her felt bad about sucker punching him like that, but that small, small sliver of herself was buried by the rest of her that was still quite upset that he not only threw his shoe at her, but that she had landed on her face and her nose was bleeding everywhere, possibly broken. A stinging pain ran through it whenever she touched anywhere around it, so stopping the blood flow was painful. Running while holding her nose was also uncomfortable, but she really wasn't keen on tasting her own blood.

After running for a few more blocks, she was certain that the man would not be pursuing her any longer, and for that she was thankful. Arriving to the edge of town, Lee sat down near an abandoned gas station, resting her back against it, watching the sky begin to lighten. The redhead could just imagine what she looked like now. When she had fallen, the hat that normally held her hair up was lost, and all the strands now cascade over her shoulders, some of her bangs sticking to her sweaty forehead and blood stained face. Panting from all the running, she felt almost like she was suffocating, not getting the oxygen that she needed. Perhaps she was hyperventilating. It was possible, given all things considered.

The sound of crunching ground caught her attention and she jumped up suddenly, unsure of her movements as the broken light of the gas station parking lot revealed a black haired male, who raised his hands to show he meant no harm. Keeping her hand over her bleeding nose, she glared, backing up a step, ready to run. Why couldn't the universe leave her alone?

"Hey there—"

"Get lost," she answered almost immediately. Despite wanting her voice to sound confident and rude, her tone was broken and frightened. She wanted nothing to do with anyone at the moment, including the man in front of her. He was perhaps in his late twenties, dressed casually with a pair of sunglasses over his eyes. He didn't look particularly threatening, but she knew better than to judge a book by its cover.

"Look, ma' buddies are just trying to 'elp," he said, an accent clear in his voice. Her eyes widened a bit, realizing he was associated with the other man and the giant robots. She backed up again, body tensing to run. How long was she going to have to do this before she would be free?

Backing up another step, suddenly two strong arms locked around her one arm and her waist, hoisted her up from the ground. Pain filled her as the man's arms pressed hard against her bruised left side, and she let out a loud whimper. Finally, however, as the man who had a hold of her moved, she realized she was being kidnapped off the street. She kicked her legs, trying to get free while using the one free hand she had to pushed his arms off of her. None of her attempts were successful, possessing too short finger nails and bare feet. However, all her flailing and screaming for him to put her down suddenly ended when she was shoved in the back seat of a small Pontiac Solstice. The seats were moved back in front of her, preventing any means of escape.

Lee sat completely still and eerily quiet in the back seat, heart racing a mile a minute while she watched the two men slide into the front seats. She looked at both of them, noting how they weren't looking back at her as they pulled out of the parking lot. Complete silence passed, before finally the passenger couldn't stand it and looked back at her.

"You ain't dead… are you…?"

"Yes. I'm a zombie," she barked back, her tone rather pitiful. Why wouldn't it cooperate and sound rude like she wanted it to? She barely noticed the driver tense up.

"She's just kidding, Jazz. She ain't actually dead," the passenger spoke, looking at his friend. Lee wondered what kind of idiot didn't get that.

"I am, however, being kidnapped!" she added.

"It's for your own protection."

"Against what? The only things that have been any danger to my health is you, and your buddies and your giant robot friends!" She was getting hysteric now, and if she had been able to, she would have started sobbing. But she couldn't produce tears any more. So instead, she'd sit, with her hands over her nose, despite it having stopped bleeding a little bit ago. It still hurt.

"There are two kinds of giant robots—the good kind, and the bad kind. It's the bad kind that want you, and the good kind," he gestured to the driver, "want to protect you."

Lee just kind of… stared at him. She didn't care. There was group A, and group B. Great. But both were still responsible for her mother's death and her current condition. She didn't want anything to do with the giant robots.

"The good robots are the Autobots. You might want to remember that."

"What are the bad ones?"

"The Decepticons." She blinked.

"Can you just let me out? I'd like to throw up now." Immediate the car pulled over and the passenger seat jerked forward, regardless of the passenger in it, and she stumbled out of the car, leaned against a brick wall, and purged everything in her stomach—which wasn't much—before she started dry heaving. Without her emotionally responding to her situation, and being so frightened and injured her body just couldn't hold it in. Throat burning, she ripped a small patch of her sleeve off, and cleaned her face, disgusted with herself. Finally, when she deemed herself somewhat presentable (not that she cared, considering she was still covered in dirt and oil) she returned to the car, operating on autopilot. The passenger was out of the car now, the seat forward so she could climb back in.

Lee decided she was done running. Her body burned and she felt like she had been hit by a truck, before memory served to remind her she _had_. As she blacked out in the back seat, she barely heard the "thank primus" from the driver about her not throwing up in the car.


End file.
